Out of Season
by WillowDryad
Summary: The White Witch is gone, but Edmund's memories of her winter linger on. Can Lucy convince Aslan to overturn the laws of nature and give them a warm Christmas?


**Disclaimer: Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

OUT OF SEASON

He tried to pretend it didn't matter. But as autumn turned the leaves from green to yellow and turned the thoughts of the Bears towards dreamless sleep, Lucy could see that Edmund was turning, too. Winter was coming. For the second time since she and her brothers and sister had been crowned, winter was coming.  
He dreaded it.  
The Great Winter, the Witch's winter, was over, destroyed by the fulfilment of the prophecy. Adam's flesh and Adam's bone now sat at Cair Paravel in throne. The natural order was restored, and winter was merely a normal part of the ever-running Narnian year.  
Lucy loved the winter. She loved the snowball fights and ice skating and, of course, the magic of Christmas. There was nothing in the world like Christmas in Narnia. It was richer and more glorious than the Christmases she had known in that Other Place, that England. Peter always threw himself wholeheartedly into whatever season they happened to be in, and even Susan wasn't above an unguarded romp in crisp winter air or an occasional snow angel. But Edmund–  
As the days grew shorter and colder, as Narnia changed from rich brown, flaming red and burning gold to stark black and white and gray, Edmund seemed to shrink in on himself. Despite Phillip's pleading, he stopped going for rides in the woods. Susan told him it would be good for him to get some fresh air, but he told her he was too busy just now and, after all, there was air inside. Peter thought it would be a fine idea to go ice fishing and tried to coax him into going along, but Edmund only shook his head and huddled by his fire.  
They all knew he remembered his dark time with the Witch, remembered being chained in her dungeon of ice, remembered being whipped and slapped and driven to exhaustion, remembered from that bitter cold time more horrors than he would admit even to Peter. And, this year as last, when the skies froze and the deep snows came, Edmund's nightmares returned.  
Lucy had hardly noticed at first. But as the winter deepened, Edmund would come to breakfast looking spent and edgy. And, more and more, she could tell that Peter hadn't slept either, having no doubt spent the night trying to soothe his younger brother's fears.  
Now it was nearly Christmas, and she had for the third time in as many nights been torn from sleep by Edmund's terrified screams. She scurried barefoot across the cold floor and peeped out into the corridor to see Peter hurrying into Edmund's room. Then, apart from the low, calming sound of Peter's voice and Edmund's occasional shuddering sobs, there was silence.  
The choking tears welled up in Lucy's eyes. It wasn't fair. Yes, he had betrayed them all in going to the Witch, but he had paid for that betrayal a hundred fold or more. And, more importantly, Aslan had payed for it with His own blood. It ought to be enough. It was enough. Why couldn't Edmund see that?  
"Oh, Aslan, please can't You do something for Edmund?" She got back into her bed and closed her eyes. "Please, dear Aslan. Can't You please?"  
"What would you have Me do, Dear One?"  
"Aslan." Her eyes flew open and she threw her arms around His neck, burying her face in His golden mane. "You're here."  
"Always, Child."  
"Please, Aslan, can't you help Edmund?"  
"What would you have Me do?" He asked again.  
"I– I don't know."  
She bit her lip. She was just a ten-year-old girl. He was the Great Lion, the Son of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Surely He would know best what Edmund needed. She could only look at him pleadingly.  
"When Father Christmas gave us our gifts, Peter and Susan and me, Edmund didn't get anything. Couldn't You– Couldn't You give him a very special present this time? To– to make it up to him? So he'll like Christmas again?"  
"And why, Dear One, was he not also given a gift?"  
"Because he wasn't there." Lucy's voice was soft as she threaded her fingers through His mane, and she didn't look into His eyes. "Because he was with the Witch." Now she did look up, pleading. "I know that was his own fault, Aslan, but he didn't know. He didn't know everything that would happen because of what he did."  
"Our actions have consequences, Beloved, whether or not we foresee them."  
"But I thought–" She considered for a moment. "I thought You forgave him."  
"I have, Sweetheart. Completely and for all time. But that does not change the past. He can do nothing but walk forward, knowing he is forgiven and loved and that I am always with him."  
"But, please, Aslan, couldn't you give him something extra special for Christmas this year?" Again the tears welled up. "He's been having such an awful time."  
There was a gentle smile in the Lion's eyes. "What would you have Me do?"  
Lucy bit her lip. "It would be so nice to have a warm Christmas just once."  
He considered for a moment, looking not at all surprised by her request. "There are times and seasons for a reason, Lucy. My land and My beasts must have rest. My people must have rest from their labors in planting and tending and harvesting. And they need the change. I have made each part of the year lovely in its own way. Edmund must learn to see beauty in the winter and not fear."  
"But please, Aslan, couldn't you do something special? Just for Edmund? I want him to enjoy this Christmas."  
The golden eyes looked deeply into hers. "You ask a great thing, Child."  
"I know." She smiled at Him, absolutely confident as she put both hands to His whiskered face. "But not too great for You. Nothing is too great for You."  
The Lion chuckled softly. "You have conquered me. Because you have asked out of love and not out of selfishness, you shall have what you desire."  
"Thank you!" she cried as she again flung herself against Him, struggling to reach her small arms around His neck. "Thank you, dear Aslan!"  
The Lion smiled on her. "Goodnight, Dear One."  
"But, please, Aslan, when? When will you do it?"  
"Soon, Beloved. Soon."  
The corners of her mouth turned down. "But You call all times soon. Couldn't You tell me–"  
Still chuckling, He nuzzled her face and then gave her cheek a Lion's kiss. "You must sleep now, Child. Morning will be here before you know it."  
She yawned and curled up on her side, feeling overwhelmingly drowsy all of a sudden. And the moment she closed her eyes, she was asleep.  
OOOOO  
The next morning dawned cold and clear, and the crisp, white snow was thicker and deeper than ever. Christmas Eve, and it was a glorious Christmas Eve, was decidedly not warm. After breakfast, she dared not say anything about it at breakfast, Lucy went into the cozy, firelit room where Susan sat sewing the doublet she was planning on giving to Edmund for Christmas. She had already finished the cape and breeches that went with it. All of them were made of fine midnight-blue wool lined with down, soft and warmer than anything else he had.  
"It's very nice," Lucy said, sitting beside her and stroking the material.  
Susan raised one delicate eyebrow. "But?"  
Lucy grinned a little. "No, it is very nice. I just– I don't think he'll need all that. Not for Christmas at least."  
"What do you mean?  
"Tomorrow is going to be warm. I know it is. Aslan told me so last night."  
"He did?" Susan didn't look at all convinced.  
"I asked him to make tomorrow warm just for Edmund, so he would have a happy Christmas, and He said He would."  
Susan gave her an indulgent smile. "And when did He say He was going to do that?"  
"Soon," Lucy said, and all of a sudden "soon" seemed rather a long way away.  
"Are you sure you saw Him?" Susan asked. "I think you might have been dreaming." She kissed Lucy's cheek and went back to her sewing. "It sounds like a very sweet dream anyway."  
Frowning, Lucy went to Peter in his private study. He was surrounded by stacks and stacks of stuffy-looking papers, and she thought it wasn't fair that he had to be so grown up all the time. He was only fifteen, and he had all the cares of a kingdom and of a family on his shoulders. She smiled, watching him. They were broad shoulders already, and she had every confidence that Aslan had known what He was doing when He made Peter the High King.  
Her brother didn't look up from his work, but she saw a tell-tale little grin make his lips twitch, and with a giggle she scampered to his side of the big desk and crawled into his lap.  
"Hullo, Lulu." He gave her an enormous hug and kissed the top of her head. "And how did I come to deserve a special visit from Queen Lucy the Valiant?"  
She twined her arms around his neck, looking up into his warm blue eyes. "I came to tell you a secret."  
The blue eyes twinkled at her. "A just you and me secret? Or is this one of those everybody knows already so it's not really a secret secrets?"  
"Just you and me," she told him. "Well, Susan knows, too. But she won't tell."  
"Not Ed?"  
Lucy shook her head, giggling. "Well, Aslan knows, too, of course."  
"Of course."  
"But it's about Edmund."  
Peter only lifted one eyebrow and waited for her to go on.  
"You know how Edmund doesn't like winter."  
Peter's indulgent expression turned grim. Edmund's nightmares had been so terrible last night, and Lucy knew it had taken Peter a long time to soothe him back to sleep.  
"Yes," he said, and his voice was weary.  
"And so he doesn't like Christmas very much now?"  
Peter nodded.  
"I talked to Aslan about it last night." Lucy toyed with the lacings on his sleeve. "He said He was going to make it warm this Christmas so Edmund won't have to be afraid and so he'll have a good time. Isn't that wonderful?"  
Peter smiled gently. "Are you sure that's what He said? You know, He's the one who made the seasons the way they are. I don't know if He would–"  
"But He said, Peter. He said."  
Peter merely smiled, patted her head, and went back to his work.  
Well, it didn't matter what they said, only what Aslan said. He was the one who could give them a warm Christmas, she knew He could. She hummed as she bundled up the presents she had for her brothers and sister, thinking how delighted they'd all be to see what Aslan did and how next time, well maybe next time, they'd believe her when she told them what He said. The day went by quickly, and all of Cair Paravel was full of singing and dancing and all manner of jollification. In the morning there would be presents and a grand banquet and celebrations of all kinds, and this time Edmund would enjoy every bit of it.  
She told this to Peter as he tucked her into bed that night, after she had said goodnight to Susan and to Edmund. Edmund hadn't returned her hug, hadn't responded with much more than a grumble from inside the blanket he had wrapped around himself, leaving only enough of an opening for him to peer out of, but she didn't care. Tomorrow would be Christmas, his Christmas, and he would remember how much fun it was, how it was better than any other time of the year.  
"Aslan will make it warm," Lucy repeated as Peter tucked her stuffed Unicorn into bed beside her.  
"Come on now," he said, giving her one last kiss on the forehead. "You have to go to sleep or Father Christmas won't come."  
"We weren't asleep the first time we saw him."  
She gave him a challenging little grin and he laughed.  
"That was special. Now you have to decide whether you're going to be a good little girl and go to sleep or find nothing but coal in your stocking in the morning."  
"We won't need coal tomorrow anyway," she said firmly. "It's going to be warm."  
"Lucy–"  
She looked towards her windows and saw that the swirling snow had turned to pelting sleet. The wind was hard and fierce, driving it against the glass.  
"It's going to be warm." Her mouth set in a firm line, she turned again to him. "Aslan said it would be warm. For Edmund."  
He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, a touch of pleading suddenly in his expression. "Lucy, sweetheart–"  
"He said, Peter."  
He smiled and tucked the covers around her, kissing her forehead for the last time once again. "Then I'm sure He'll do what's best. Now sweet dreams, love, and I'll see you in the morning."  
He put out her candle and crept out of the room, leaving her with just the warm glow of the fire and the savage howling of the storm. She frowned at the rattling windows and then resolutely closed her eyes. It wasn't morning yet.  
OOOOO  
She felt as if she must have slept, because everything now was dark and quiet, yet somehow she could see. She could see Edmund's bed, the wide, downy bed of a King laden with embroidered coverlets and downy quilts and the best of the woolen blankets made especially by the Sheep. In the middle of all that splendor was a little mound, wrapped tight, impenetrable. The mound was Edmund.  
She considered it for a moment, and then, from somewhere she couldn't see came a faint light. Not the blazing, golden light of that morning at the Stone Table more than a year ago, when the darkness of despair had been driven away by a Lion's roar. And yet . . .  
And yet . . .  
She could feel Him there, moving close on silent velvet paws, merely a silver-edged shadow. He went to the bed and nuzzled the lump in the middle. The lump did not respond.  
Finally the Lion took the outermost blanket in His teeth and gave it a sharp tug. The lump tumbled onto the floor, unraveling until all that was left was Edmund, startled and blinking and trying to keep the last of his blankets pulled around himself.  
A gleam of amusement touched the eyes of the silvery shadow, and He pulled that last blanket to the floor. Edmund gaped at Him, his dark eyes wide, but the Lion merely nudged the middle of his back, urging him to stand. Edmund reached for his boots, for the cloak he had discarded the night before, but the Lion again urged him on. In just his nightshirt and a pair of freshly knitted socks, Edmund opened his door and stepped into the dark corridor outside.  
Somehow, Lucy couldn't say how, now she could see him and Lion in the snow-and-ice shrouded garden. The ground was barren, the trees mere skeletons of their summer selves, but the Lion said something she couldn't hear. For a moment, Edmund looked thoughtful, and then he nodded. Then the Lion looked upward, and Lucy could see His wise, wild eyes as they were touched with starlight. Edmund, too, looked up, and instead of keeping his arms wrapped tightly around himself, he lifted them to the night sky, his eyes shining with wonder as the Stars began to sing.  
In a moment, Edmund and Aslan were on the frozen surface of the Great River, laughing and running, gliding as if they both wore skates, faster and faster, chasing and dodging, sometimes the Lion the pursuer, sometimes the pursued, each of them calling to the other, though Lucy could not hear, and then tumbling together into the snow along the riverbanks until Edmund was clasped against the Lion's warm side, sheltered from the newly swirling sleet that swept over them and turned everything white and then gray and then black.  
OOOOO  
A shrill scream jolted Lucy out of sleep and out of bed. Edmund!  
She glanced at her windows as she pulled on her robe and stuffed her feet into slippers. It was morning and the sun was shining, but the glass was distorted and bluish, pebbly with sleet and ice.  
Not warm.  
It wasn't warm. Oh, Aslan.  
"No!" Edmund shrieked. "No! No, no, no!"  
It had all been a dream. None of it was true. Aslan hadn't–  
Dashing the tears from her eyes, she yanked open her door and flew across the corridor to Edmund's room. Then she froze on the threshold.  
He and Peter were wrestling on the puddled floor, Edmund warmly dressed and cloaked and Peter with his hair sticking out all over his head and his nightshirt wet and rumpled. They were both soaking wet and flushed. And they were laughing.  
Lucy blinked. Laughing?  
"No!" Edmund shrieked again, trying to hold Peter away from him, but Peter had a determined look on his face and a handful of slush.  
"Dump snow in my bed, will you?" he demanded. "See how you like it."  
Edmund squirmed away, but not in time to avoid having that slush stuffed down the back of his neck, and he laughed and shrieked again.  
"Edmund!" Lucy gasped. "Peter, what are you–"  
"Hullo, Lu." Peter grinned at her from where he sat cross-legged on the floor.  
"Merry Christmas, Lucy." Edmund bounded to her and swung her into his arms.  
"E-Edmund?"  
"And who were you expecting?"  
"But–" She blinked at him, not knowing what to say. "But you're, uh, I mean you've been outside. Playing. I thought–"  
"Aslan came to see me last night," Edmund said, his dark eyes shining as they had in her dream. "He showed me–"  
"He showed you winter!" Lucy cried. "The way it's meant to be. His winter, not the Witch's. Oh, Edmund! He did it! I saw it! He did what He said!"  
"What are you talking about?" Susan said, looking from one to the other as she came into the room. "Peter, you're soaked through. You'd better stand by the fire in your room until you're dry. Lucy, I thought you wanted Aslan to make it warm today."  
"Well," Lucy said thoughtfully, "that's what I asked Him." She flung her arms around Edmund, not caring that he was still covered with melting snow. "But He didn't give me what I asked for, just what I really, really wanted."  
"Get off," Edmund growled as he wriggled away, but there was still laughter in his eyes.  
"You two had better hurry and get dressed," Susan told Peter and Lucy, "because it just so happens that I made a pork pie for Christmas breakfast."  
"And I'm going to eat all of it!" Edmund bolted out of the room and then leaned back into the doorway. "And I saw Father Christmas a little bit ago."  
Susan's eyes flashed as she chased after him. "Edmund Alexander Pevensie, you did not see Father Christmas, and you leave that pie alone!"  
"Father Christmas!" Lucy squealed, hurtling herself after them both.  
"Wait!" Peter cried, as bewildered as he was bedraggled, "you haven't told me about Aslan yet. Lu!"  
"Oh, you know about Aslan," she called back to him, eager to get dressed and down to breakfast. "He always does what He says."  
"Lu!"  
She didn't have time for explanations now. There was one last thing she had to do before she did anything else, even before she made Edmund tell her about Father Christmas. When she reached her room, she looked through the frosted window and up to the bright winter sun, a sun as fierce and golden as the Lion Himself. He had done what she had asked, but in a way more perfect than she could have ever imagined. Dear Aslan. Not safe, but good.  
"Thank You," she whispered. "Thank You, and Merry Christmas."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope this Christmas finds all of you well and happy and with the ones you love best. And even if that all can't be so just now, I pray that you will trust in the One who is The Reason for this Christmas Season to lead you in His way, a way that may not be what you asked but one which He has made perfect. Merry Christmas and the happiest of New Years to you all.**


End file.
